Archive (Fig+Bleu)

My parents left on a plane yesterday and I am not sure if I will see them next at Christmas or in the summer of next year. It was a good trip, bittersweet in its shortness and seeing more lines crack around my dad's eyes. Wounds run as deep as roots in my family, and I can't speak on their absence much right now.

Except those small sidestories my mother told to fill the gaps in conversation reminded me of home. Even the trip to Wal-Mart right after they landed reminded me of home, the amount of snacks they bought, their insistence to pay for everything. I remember when I brought my first boyfriend to my parents' home in Pennsylvania, I was 15. He grabbed a handful of snack cakes and a bag of chips and we hid ourselves in my room, watching movies and holding hands in the blue light of the TV set. I remember when I took a boy to New York for Christmas the first year we dated and we took a bus back to my home at three in the morning. We sat up watching a dog show and eating pickles and caramel popcorn out of those old holiday-themed tins.

It all came back to me, because those times were relics of home. The old brass bed I slept on, cradled in boys' arms. The trips to New York. Bags of groceries from Wal-Mart. Those old tins of popcorn that were reused as robot bodies and yarn storage. My mother knitted me a scarf once in the dead middle of August, making use of her sabbatical from the candy store and I sat in the air conditioned room and modeled it for her, my peach slices in one hand and a popsicle in the other. She had some leftover candied popcorn from my brother's wedding the month before and munched on it while we watched TV. It was caramel-flavored, "just like the kind you."

Home has become sense-memories now. It can get confused between season and even year. Novelty popcorn in old dented tins, syrup running down my wrist. The TV in the background and the love for home in the foreground. I realize I won't have those moments back anytime soon, they left on a plane, departing San Diego to Albuquerque in the second terminal a little over twelve hours ago.

And to fill the time today, I made popsicles for Billy's Popsicle Week. I might not have found my home yet, but I am amassing a community of bloggers that keep me distracted, entertained, inspired, and laughing all at once. Wit and Vinegar is one of these bloggers. Because of this, I was happy to recreate a memory through this popsicle, to make a caramel corn popsicle that was a fun twist on a classic from anyone's childhood. Maybe home is just in sense memory, but maybe I can recreate those moments whenever I want. And you can, too! Recipe is below.

And if you don't know what Popsicle Week is, then go check out Billy's blog for more details. Here's last year's list of participants, and I am so happy to be a part of it this year!

Caramel Corn Popsicle

This recipe is for four popsicles, because that's as many as my mold made, but you can double this recipe easily